Star Trek: Madagascar
by Galaxy1001D
Summary: In the 23rd Century, Skipper, Kowalski, Rico, and Private are space marines serving aboard a starship in the Star Trek Universe! Can these warriors handle a diplomatic mission? Guest starring Alex, Marty, Melman, and Gloria from the Madagascar movies!
1. Space Marines

**Star Trek: Madagascar**

by Galaxy1001D

_The Penguins of Madagascar_ television series and the movies _Madagascar_ and _Madagascar_ _2: Escape to Africa_ are the properties of Nickelodeon and Dreamworks Animation, Viacom, CBS and a bunch of other guys. Additional material owned by 20th Century Fox. Star Trek is owned by Paramount, who is also owned by CBS. This story has been written for the purpose of entertainment only. No attempt has been made to use this document for profit.

_Chapter One: Space Marines_

The starship drifted peacefully through space as the voice of Ben Stiller was heard. "Ship's log, stardate 2009.2, Commander Alex Alakay, first officer of the _NCC-2005 USS Madagascar_, reporting. We are patrolling along the edge of neutral territory. Our mission: Looking for Romulans, doomsday machines, any darn trouble we can get into."

Inside, seated in the command chair in the center of the circular bridge was a vaguely anthropomorphic lion wearing a Starfleet uniform. Instead of wearing boots the paws that he used for feet were exposed. The lion's forepaws were almost handlike and had opposable thumbs.

"Guys, I'm really nervous," the lion in the command chair admitted meekly. "When the captain went to that conference on Vega he left me in charge. I just know that I'm going to mess up."

A strange zebra-like alien at the helm seat pivoted on his chair and smiled back at his commander. "Hey, don't sweat it Alex," the zebra assured him. "We don't even have to do anything. All we gotta do is drop the first contact team off at the planet Lemuria, then we drop that squad of marines off at Colony LV-426 for their suicide mission, and after that we rendezvous with the _Hood_ for underway replenishment. It's not like we've gotta save the universe or anything."

"Thanks Marty," Alex sighed. "I don't know what I'm doing. I don't watch a lot of _Star Trek_."

"At least you're an official _Star Trek_ alien," Marty grumbled good-naturedly. "I don't even know what I am. Am I a black alien with white stripes or a white alien with black stripes?"

"I'm an official alien?" Alex asked the zebra. "Since when?"

"Back in the seventies they came out with an animated version of _Star Trek_," Marty explained. "Six of the episodes had a lioness in a uniform who was a member of the crew who filled in when Uhura beamed down or something. These cat guys might have showed up in _Star Trek IV_ and _Star Trek V_ too."

"Really?" Alex smiled in spite of himself. "So I'm official? What are my people called?"

"Lemme look it up," a feminine voice came from the hippopotamus-like creature at communications. She studied a readout on a computer screen. "It says here you're a Caitian."

"A _Caitian_, huh?" Alex gushed. "Wow! Does it say anything else, Gloria? Do I have any alien powers, like Spock?"

The hippo squinted at the screen. "Uh, it doesn't really say that much on 'em," she admitted, "but it does say that you guys don't need to wear shoes."

"Oh, yeah, don't need shoes," Alex looked down at his bare feet and spread his toes apart. "Yeah. Well that's something I guess…"

Marty burst out in laughter. "You never know when that will come in handy!" he mocked. "Four hundred and thirty lives!" he brayed melodramatically. "The ship is doomed! Wait! Alex! Can't your people operate without footwear? The ship is saved!"

"C'mon Marty, knock it off," Alex groaned.

"What are you complaining for?" Marty shrugged. "At least you're the first officer. You get something to do in an episode. As chief helmsman all I ever do is sit in this chair, day in and day out… Standard orbit, captain! Warp factor three… warp factor one… I hardly ever get any lines. I wanna beam down and see the wide open spaces…"

At the back of the bridge a set of elevator doors hissed open and a giraffe staggered in. "Hey guys, what's going on?" it asked the others. "Why are a bunch of zoo animals in charge of the starship _Enterprise_?"

"It's a _Star Trek_ parody, Melman." Alex explained. "We're not animals, we're aliens that resemble animals. And this isn't the _Enterprise_, it's the starship _Madagascar_."

"Oh, I guess that makes sense," Melman conceded. "Uh, not to wreck things or anything, but how do I do anything on this show? I don't have opposable thumbs."

Gloria pivoted her chair to look up information on her computer. "It says here that you've got telekinesis. Those horns on your head are really antennas that boost your psychic powers. You can levitate objects just by concentrating. Go on give it a try."

"Way to go Melman!" Marty cheered. "You've got alien powers! Go on, use the force! Pick something up!"

"Yeah Melman!" Alex nodded enthusiastically. "You've gotta levitate something for us!"

The giraffe blushed uncomfortably. "Hey guys, it's not me, it's the special effects guys. I don't do nothin', you know that…"

"Ah c'mon Melman," Gloria chided. "Levitate something. Here, use this clipboard." She waved it enticingly. "Pick it up using the force. Come on, you can do it."

"Okay," Melman chuckled ruefully. "Here goes."

The clipboard shot out of Gloria's hand and hit Alex in the face.

"Ow!" the lion clutched at his face with his hands. "Right in my eye! What is _wrong_ with you, Melman?"

"It wasn't my fault," the giraffe protested. "The special effects guys messed up! This show doesn't spend enough on special effects. For crying out loud the set is being held together with spit and bailing wire!"

"It's no big deal, Melman," Marty assured him. "It's not like we're going to be doing much anyway."

"Really?" the giraffe asked. "What's our mission?"

"We're dropping off a first contact party at a distant planet, dropping off some marines at another planet, and delivering supplies to another starship," the zebra replied. "Just standard issue, boring stuff."

"I just know I'm going to mess this up…" Alex moaned.

"Marines?" Melman blinked. "Since when are there marines in _Star Trek_?"

"I dunno," Marty shrugged. "The Navy has marines. Why not Starfleet? Just because we didn't see 'em didn't mean they weren't there. We _did_ see them in that _Trek_ show with the _Quantum Leap_ guy in it…"

"But I thought that Starfleet was dedicated to peaceful exploration," Melman insisted. "Why have marines? They're strictly military. Why have people who specialize in hurting people and breaking things?"

"I guess that's why we never saw them on the first four _Trek_s," the zebra shrugged again. "In the enlightened and peaceful future we don't need 'em as much. Don't worry about it. These guys are being sent on a suicide mission to a colony that has been overrun by flesh-eating monsters. No need for finesse on that one. Just be thankful that marines are considered more expendable than Starfleet personnel or it could be us who has to go down there."

"Wow Marty, you sure know an awful lot about _Star Trek_," Alex said.

"I'm the chief helmsman," the zebra grumbled. "All I ever do all day is sit on the bridge watching the big screen TV in front of us. By now I must have seen every episode of the original series twice!"

* * *

In their quarters on deck five, two Chimpanzees from the planet Chimpanz were rehearsing their presentation.

"On behalf of the United Federation of Planets, we are moved by your hospitality and present this gift…" the one on the left said in a solemn Oxford English accent. The one on the right was using American Sign Language for the benefit of the hearing impaired.

The door hissed open and Commander Alakay stepped in. "Phil? Mason?" the lion asked them. "Are you guys ready? 'Cause this is an important mission and the captain is counting on us!"

"Have no fear, Commander," the Chimp on the left assured him. "Phil and I have mastered every nuance in Lemur etiquette. We have studied the planet's history and know their culture better than the inhabitants do. I dare say that Lemuria will love us!"

"Okay," Alex tried to hide his misgivings. "If you say so. But just remember that diplomatic missions are always tricky. You never know what will offend the natives."

"Not to worry," Mason assured him. "We _do_ know what will offend the natives. Phil here has compiled as list of three hundred and forty different things that offend them."

"Okay," Alex nodded and backed out the door. "Just don't do anything weird, all right?"

As the door hissed shut, Phil signed a query to his counterpart.

"Yes of _course_ we're going to fling poo at them!" Mason exclaimed. "Honestly Phil, how could you even ask such a question? If we have to accept every nuance their strange culture, the least they could do is accept the fundamental principles of ours!"

* * *

The squad from the United Federation Marine Corps was quartered on deck eighteen, in the secondary hull that was under the main saucer. It was almost as if a group that specialized in combat were considered 'unclean' and were kept away from the cream of the _Madagascar_.

The lion entered the cabin to see four birdlike aliens from the planet Pengu disassembling and reassembling their phasers. "Uh, Sergeant Skipper, are your men ready?" Alex asked hesitantly.

"Affirmative," the flat-topped Penguin assured him in a curt military tone. "Kowalski has memorized every detail about the objective. Rico has managed to jury-rig the special equipment we'll need."

"What do you think your chances are?" Alex asked hesitantly.

"Better than we thought it would be," Skipper admitted. "It seems that the private they sent to replace Manfredi and Johnson really knows his stuff. We've been training during the entire voyage and I think that we're finally able to gel as a team. Don't worry, Commander. We'll find out what happened to the colonists on LV-426 and live to report it."

"Okay," Alex nodded. "I'll let you guys get ready. I don't want to jinx you but I want you to know that all of us who are cleared to know about your mission know what a risk you're taking. You guys deserve a medal."

The lion put his paw to his eyebrow and in turn the Penguins returned his salute. They did it so quick and snappily that Alex could hear the air swishing. They all saluted at the exact same time in perfect coordination. Alex was impressed, and a little intimidated. These Penguins were focused and disciplined, he had to give them that.

After the first officer left, Skipper turned to address his subordinate. "Kowalski!" he barked. "Have the battle dress uniforms been delivered yet?"

The tallest and slimmest of the Penguins waddled up to him. "Yes indeed, Skipper. They came with the antigravity belts. As you ordered, the front of the BDU is the same ash white color of LV-426's sky. The back is the same ebony color as the ground on that world."

"Excellante," Skipper put his flippers on the sides of his portly body the way a human would put his hands on his hips. "They should give us natural camouflage in addition to being invisible to conventional sensors. We should be able to maintain the element of surprise while we're in the air."

"Are we going to be flying?" the shortest and most egg-shaped of the Penguins asked in a high-pitched English accent.

"Of course," Skipper barked. "Why else were we practicing maneuvers in zero gee all this time? Now get dressed soldier; we beam down into Hades in two hours!"

As a group, the Penguins went to their lockers and removed their dappled UFMC uniforms. They put on the battle dress uniform that would give them maximum camouflage during flight as well as be radiation resistant, temperature moderating, and completely fireproof.

After they dressed, the turned around simultaneously to survey each other before they put on their combat webbing. It was the private who voiced their observations first.

"We look like we're naked!" the private gasped.

Rico, the Penguin who had a Mohawk style crest of feathers on his head and a scar on the left side of his beak smiled cheekily.

"Keep your heads in the game, men," Skipper ordered. "This is a suicide mission we're on so if any of us want to make it through it, we better stay focused. Remember what happened to Manfredi and Johnson."

The private clasped his flippers uncomfortably as Rico, Kowalski, and Skipper all looked down at the floor sadly. He turned and reached into his locker to extract a box of candy labeled 'Winkie Snacks'. He hugged the box and murmured, "If I don't come back, know that I've always loved you," and gave the box a single chaste kiss. As he smelled the chocolate and peanut buttery goodness the young Penguin perked up a bit. "Hm, sugary," he smiled in satisfaction.

* * *

In precisely one hour and fifty-nine minutes the four Penguins were in the transporter room. Over their BDUs they wore the straps, belts, and baldrics that were known as 'combat webbing', a series of harnesses to hold weapons and equipment where a soldier could get to them in a combat situation. The four stout flightless avians were covered with weapons and durable-high tech equipment. Nothing had been left to chance. If they didn't take it with them, they would simply have to do without.

All of their gear was stowed in pouches and pockets that had been sealed shut, checked and rechecked. If they were maneuvering in the sky with their experimental antigravity belts it would do them no good if a vital piece of equipment like a communicator or a tricorder fell out of their pocket and tumbled away into space.

Alex, Marty, Gloria and Melman were in the transporter room to bid the Penguins farewell. "Good luck guys," Alex waved at the birds on the transporter pads. "You're going to need it!"

"Okay," the zebra muttered as he studied the controls to the transporter. "Now how do you work this thing?"

"Ooh! Ooh! Let me!" Melman cried as he used his incredibly long neck to look over Marty's shoulder. "I want to use my telekinesis to work the controls!"

"No dice," Marty huffed. "All I ever do is sit around and push buttons. At least let me use the cool controls!"

"Any time you're ready guys," Alex said nervously.

"Okay," Marty muttered as he used his forehoof to tap on the control panel. "On the show they push some buttons, and then use these three sliders over here to make 'em beam out…"

"Ooh! Ooh!" Melman gasped. "You're doing it wrong! Let me try! I can do it! Lock on the coordinates!"

"Do you boys want to let me try it?" Gloria offered.

"_I can do this, Melman_," the zebra said testily as he moved his head back and forth to block the giraffe's view.

"C'mon you're doing it wrong," Melman moaned as he used his long neck to maneuver despite Marty's efforts. "You're going to beam them out into outer space or turn them inside out or something!"

Sergeant Skipper used his flipper to slap his forehead. "Sweet Mother Macarthur!" he cried. "Just do it all ready! We're not getting any younger!"

The zebra and the giraffe stopped struggling with each other and stared at the irate bird on the transporter pad.

"Are they allowed to talk to officers that way?" Melman asked.

"Search me," Marty shrugged. "If they're in a hurry to throw their lives away, I'm not going to stop 'em." With that the zebra used his front hoof to tap some buttons on the control panel and then move the three sliders.

On the transporter pads, four meter-sized Penguins glowed luminously and vanished. Unfortunately, their equipment and weapons didn't. Four sets of combat webbing, full of gear but empty of Penguins fell to the ground with a number of quiet thuds.

Four sets of eyes stared at the piles of combat gear in horror.

"Uh-oh," Alex moaned.

"I think the risks of their suicide mission just went up," Melman added.

_Next: Welcome to Lemuria_


	2. Welcome to Lemuria

**Star Trek: Madagascar**

by Galaxy1001D

_The Penguins of Madagascar_ television series and the movies _Madagascar_ and _Madagascar_ _2: Escape to Africa_ are the properties of Nickelodeon and Dreamworks Animation, Viacom, CBS and a bunch of other guys. Additional material owned by 20th Century Fox. Star Trek is owned by Paramount, who is also owned by CBS. This story has been written for the purpose of entertainment only. No attempt has been made to use this document for profit.

_Chapter Two: Welcome to Lemuria_

On the surface of an alien world, four Penguins surveyed their surroundings. It was hot and humid. Tropical green vegetation was everywhere, and insects and other animal life were abundant. On thing that wasn't abundant, however was equipment.

"Skippah!" the short and roly-poly private exclaimed as he clasped his flippers in front of his chest. "Our weapons! They're gone! We're completely unarmed!"

"And on top of that, LV-426 does not correspond in the slightest to the information imparted in our briefing," Kowalski added. "It appears as if our intel is as unreliable as our equipment."

"At ease, gentlemen," Skipper said smugly. "It's always darkest before the dawn." He turned to the scarred and silent Penguin. "Rico! Equip us!"

Gagging in discomfort, the silent Penguin regurgitated two tricorders, two sets of goggles, some earphones, a phaser pistol, and a phaser carbine.

"Huh?" the private blinked in confusion. "Where did that come from?"

"I had Rico visit the quartermaster's office and the armory last night," Skipper replied smoothly. "When on a dangerous mission, you can never have enough equipment."

"B-but it's against regulations…" the private stammered.

"Sweet naïve Private," Skipper smiled condescendingly. "A true operator never let a little thing like regulations get in the way of a successful mission. Isn't that right, boys?"

Rico nodded cheerfully while Kowalski added, "We never let regulations get in the way of survival, either."

"Calm down, Private," Skipper put his flipper around his nervous subordinate. "We're on a suicide mission. What are they going to do, court marshal us?"

"I suppose you're right…" the private agreed. He had the best training the corps could give him, but he didn't have experience. He had to trust his team and follow their lead.

As his team equipped themselves, Skipper picked up one of the tricorders and set it on 'record'. "Skipper's log, Stardate 2009.2: We have beamed down to Colony LV-426. Due to a snafu the equipment that was issued to us ended up AWOL, but Rico managed to get us the bare minimum. On top of that, our intel is completely bogus. Instead of a barren black rock LV-426 is a tropical paradise of vegetation…"

"Skipper!" Kowalski was wearing goggles and earphones while twiddling on his tricorder. "I've got movement in sector Victor Bravo! A life form roughly our mass equipped with technology heading our way!"

"Fan out, boys!" Skipper ordered, his face frowning in determination. "We aren't going to let the enemy catch us flatfooted!"

As one, they dropped prone and rolled in different directions to hide in the underbrush. Rico had the carbine. The private had the pistol. Skipper and Kowalski were unarmed, but their flippers were registered as lethal weapons.

"It's almost on top of us," Kowalski hissed in a stage whisper.

While they were experts in stealth, the black and white battle dress uniforms they were wearing where no substitutes for standard camouflage or Ghillie suits. "Hey guys," a chirpy female voice greeted.

"Hiya-who-hah!" Skipper cried as the Penguins leaped from their hiding places to pounce on the intruder. In less than a second, they had subdued a stout furry biped in civilian clothing.

"What are you doing?" she asked irritation evident in her voice.

"I could ask you the same thing," Skipper retorted as he and the others got off her. "What were you doing sneaking around like that?"

Now that the Penguins had gotten off of her, they could get a better look at the female they had tackled. She was about a meter tall, equal to Skipper's height, and most of her exposed flesh was covered in brown fur. Her cheeks and muzzle were white and she had thin, almost invisible whiskers. She apparently came from a high gravity world, for her legs were short and stubby just like the Penguins' legs were, but thanks to her slacks they were visible. Her brown slacks were modified for her short tail, and her torso was covered with a brown jacket, and a white sweater underneath. The palms of her hands were blackish in contrast to her bubblegum pink nose. Her large innocent hazel eyes were the size of golf balls emphasizing her large feminine eyelashes.

She picked herself off the ground and looked at Skipper with disbelieving eyes. "Sneaking? Who's sneaking?" she protested. "I just came out here to greet you guys! You _are_ the First Contact Team, right?"

"Negative," Skipper shook his head. "Sergeant Thomas Skipper, United Federation Marine Corps. Identify yourself. What are you doing on Colony LV-426?"

"My name is Marlene Nova, and I'm your liaison with the Federation Diplomatic Service," the civilian replied. "Could I speak to your superior? You guys don't seem all there."

"It's possible that she is the sole survivor of the calamity that has befallen the colony," Kowalski mused as he scanned her with his tricorder. "We must run a medical diagnostic on her to make sure the xenovores haven't laid their eggs in her."

"Affirmative," Skipper grunted. "Okay, calm down and tell me what happened. Are any of the other colonists still alive? Did you get hit by a facehugger? What's the last thing you remember before passing out?"

"Getting tackled by four naked Penguins," Marlene frowned, but she was so cute and cuddly looking that she really couldn't pull off an intimidating scowl.

"We aren't naked; these are body suits," the private protested meekly as he tugged at his collar. "They're colored this way to blend in with our environment." When the civilian glanced at the lush and colorful surroundings skeptically he added, "Only we're in the wrong environment."

"So, why did they send in the marines?" the civilian asked. "Since when are marines necessary for a purely peaceful mission?"

"Kowalski, analysis," Skipper barked.

"She appears to be a native of the planet Ott Four, a member of the sentient Federation species known as the Otters. She is young and in excellent health. No sign of any contamination."

"Well of course not, silly," Marlene teased. "Lemuria Two has got to be the healthiest place in the galaxy!"

"Lemuria Two?" Skipper blinked. "We're not on Lemuria. We were sent on a suicide mission to Colony LV-426!"

"Well you're not on Colony LV… whatever it is," Marlene assured them. "You're on the planet Lemuria, home to a pacifist species we hope will join the Federation. This planet is one of the most species rich biomes we've ever catalogued. The chemical and medicinal uses for the native plant life is staggering. They've got an herb that will cure Rigellian Blood Fever! Isn't that amazing?"

"That _is_ amazing!" Kowalski nodded as he was swept away by her enthusiasm. "To think the biochemical agents in the local flora could revolutionize medicine as we know it and bring health and long life to the inhabitants of the United Federation of Planets! I can't wait to study the species you've catalogued! Do you think that…"

"Can it Kowalski," Skipper muttered. "So you're telling me this _isn't_ Colony LV-426?"

"Uh, no," Marlene confirmed. "This isn't a colony of any kind. The Lemurs have been living here like forever. So you guys aren't a security detail for the Starfleet diplomatic party?"

"Negative," Skipper shook his head.

"It appears our squad has beamed down to the wrong location," Kowalski murmured as he tapped listlessly at his tricorder. "Apparently we are at the coordinates for the First Contact Party."

"I concur," Skipper nodded as Rico started chasing a butterfly. "The question is, if we're on Lemuria, where's the diplomatic party?"

* * *

Meanwhile, thousands of light-years away on the desolate colony world designated LV-426, the weak and feeble light of the planet's sun dimly illuminated the white ash-filled sky. On the ground it was difficult to tell that the sun had risen, for obsidian rock that stretched into the horizon didn't reflect the sun's rays at all. Instead the ebony black stone seemed to suck the light into itself like tar pits claiming a dinosaur.

Two Chimpanzees walked away from the rest of the First Contact Team and surveyed their bleak and desolate surroundings.

Mason cleared his throat uneasily. "I hope you packed plenty of poo, Phil."

* * *

Back on Lemuria Two, Marlene attempted to bring the diplomatic mission back on track. "Anywho… when is the First Contact Party beaming down?"

"I'm sure they'll be down any minute now…" Kowalski said uneasily.

As the hours passed, the sun set and Lemuria's beautiful silver moon rose to illuminate the sky.

"Any minute now," Kowalski repeated.

"Who-boy," Marlene sighed. "Look, it obvious that the First Contact Party isn't coming. I guess that leaves you guys to complete their mission. Have you been briefed about the inhabitants of this planet at all?"

"Well technically, and it's still too early to give a definitive answer to that query…" Kowalski paused. "I'd have to say… no."

"Uh-uh," Rico shook his head.

"We really didn't know that we'd even _be_ on this planet," Private explained.

"Gentlemen," Skipper said in a commanding voice. "This team has successfully defeated a rock monster when we were armed only with a screwdriver and a small piece of bubblegum. I personally have taken down five angry Klingons with only a wing and a prayer, and another wing. I'm sure we can handle this diplo-mission."

"But Skippah, we don't know the first thing about diplomacy," the private protested. "I can kill a man with my bare flippers and snipe a target from a click away but I don't know how to talk to foreign dignitaries!"

"Watch and learn, Private," Skipper purred. "Watch and learn."

Marlene sighed and put her hand to her forehead.

* * *

Thousands of lightyears away, the starship _Madagascar_ soared through the endless reaches of space…

From her console on the bridge, Gloria the hippo made an announcement. "Hey guys, we're getting a distress call from one of our teams."

"Let's hear it," Alex said.

Alex, Marty, Melman, and Gloria became quiet as Mason's Oxford English accent was heard from the speakers. "Starship _Madagascar_? This is Mason Cornelius of the First Contact Team… Is anybody there?"

"We hear you Mason, over!" Alex announced.

"Ah… Commander," Mason said with deadly calm. "Not to put a fly in your ointment old bean, but are you sure you dropped us off at the right planet?"

"Sure we are," Alex said. "We only visited two planets. How is Lemuria?"

"Difficult to say, old boy," Mason continued. "The planet doesn't correspond at all to our briefing. It's a lifeless black rock that is covered in ash. After walking over four kilometers we made it to some sort of outpost, but it seems abandoned. There's lots of scorch marks on the wall, and Phil says they were made with phase weapons, the kind that civilians are cleared to have. Outside there is a sign identifying the settlement as 'Hadley's Hope', population one fifty-eight. Inside the buildings have the logo of the Weyland-Yutani Corporation, indicating that this is a commercial colony."

"Weyland-Yutani Corporation?" Marty used his hooves to tap some keys at his helm console. "Let me look this up." The zebra looked back at Alex. "They're at Colony LV-426!"

"The suicide mission!" Alex exclaimed. The lion shakily sat back down in the command chair and spoke to the wall. "Mason, is everything okay? Is your team all right?"

"Well, now that you mention it, Watchword managed to get this weird creature stuck to his face," the chimp replied. "The thing dropped off and Watchword seems fine now, but we're keeping an eye on him…" Suddenly the shriek of a chimpanzee cut Mason off. "What's that, Phil?" Mason asked. "What's happened to Watchword? He's been disemboweled you say? My word, that's awful! A creature burst out of his chest? Well where is it now? You don't know? How are the others? Well, I should say so…"

Alex, Marty, Melman, and Gloria grimaced during the description. Melman put his face in a bag and looked rather sick.

"Mason!" Alex cried as he jumped out of his chair. "Hang on! We're turning around! According to our information there should be a warp capable shuttle somewhere in the complex. Do you think that you and your team can get to it?"

"We'll give it a try Commander," Mason replied dryly. "Still, if you could get here as fast as you could we would be ever so grateful."

"Marty!" Alex's eyes were bulging out of his head. "Set course back to LV-426! Maximum warp!"

"Aye-Aye, Commander," the zebra quickly tapped his forehooves on the helm panel. "Maximum warp! Here we go!"

The _Madagascar_ made a sweeping arc and disappeared in a flurry of special effects.

"I just knew I was going to mess up," Alex moaned in the captain's chair.

"Don't take it so hard, Alex," Marty consoled him. "We all messed up."

"I'm the ranking officer," Alex sighed. "When we all mess up, I mess up."

"Guys?" Melman used his long neck to interpose himself between the lion and the zebra. "Is traveling at maximum warp safe? I mean, in the original series they were always saying how the ship would break apart if it went too fast…"

"They stopped doing that in the eighties 'cause it was so corny," Marty assured him. "There is no 'the ship is about to fly apart' any more."

A burst of sparks flew from the zebra's control panel, startling everyone on the bridge.

"I stand corrected," Marty gasped.

"I knew it! I knew it!" Melman cried as he stumbled to the elevator. "I've got to get to engineering!" His head came out of the elevator to talk to the others. "I'll try to shut off the warp drive in engineering while you guys do what you can on the bridge, okay?"

"Okay!" Marty said as his hooves tapped across his smoking console. Alex bounded out of the command chair to sit at the identical console at the zebra's right.

"All hands, get to emergency stations," Gloria said into a microphone.

"Engineering!" Melman ordered the elevator as the others sprang into action. "GAH!" his eyes and tongue bulged out as the elevator doors closed on his neck.

_Next: Meet Da King!_


	3. Meet Da King!

**Star Trek: Madagascar**

by Galaxy1001D

_The Penguins of Madagascar_ television series and the movies _Madagascar_ and _Madagascar_ _2: Escape to Africa_ are the properties of Nickelodeon and Dreamworks Animation, Viacom, CBS and a bunch of other guys. Star Trek is owned by Paramount, who is also owned by CBS. This story has been written for the purpose of entertainment only. No attempt has been made to use this document for profit.

_Chapter Three: Meet Da King_

"Skipper's Log, Stardate 2009.3. Due to a snafu on the officers' part, the team has been beamed down to the wrong coordinates. Instead of the seek-and-destroy mission on a distant outpost that we've been training for, we've somehow replaced the diplomatic team that was supposed to usher Lemuria into the Federation," Skipper put his tricorder away and looked at the rest of his team. "Well, gents it's now or never."

The royal palace appeared to be a giant treehouse, built upon giant trees. Various structures in the leafy foliage appeared to be giant pineapples from the outside. Almost a hundred meters above the jungle floor, walkways, ladders, ropes, and entire buildings composed of the Lemur city.

The Lemurs themselves were something to see. They were furry primates that seemed equally at home as bipeds or quadrupeds. Their furry faces were quite expressive, tending to exaggerate their expressions. Most disconcerting were their eyes. The whites of their eyes were not white, but were bright colors including red, orange, yellow, and blue. The irises were black. The Lemurs dressed simply in kilts made of cloth or leaves, decorated with jewelry made of polished wood.

The Lemurs were a social species, and did not seem to understand the concept of personal space. They crowded around the newcomers, and patted, poked and prodded them as they escorted them to an audience with their king.

In the throne room, a short portly lemur that resembled a koala made an announcement. "Presenting his royal majesty, King Julian the Thirteenth, Lord of Lemuria, Protector of the Primates, and Regent of the Ringtails!"

Behind him, what appeared to be two giant peacock tails folded open to reveal a gray slender ringtailed Lemur on his throne. He wore a green leafy crown and had yellow eyes, a pointy snout, and pointy ears. "Hello my royal subjects!" he greeted. "King Julian in da house mon! Let the celebration begin!" He burst into song. "I like to move it move it! I like to move it move it!…"

The music ended when the Penguins and Marlene entered the throne room.

"What are they?" squeaked a tiny golden Lemur. "What are they?"

"They are aliens!" King Julian decided. "Savage aliens from the savage future. They have come back in time to steal our women!"

"What?" Marlene exclaimed as the Penguins put their flippers to their heads and shook their heads in disgust. "Oh no! They're not after your women! I'm a woman myself! See? We are friendly aliens! Friends!"

"That creature with the strange eyes looks familiar to me, Maurice," the king mused as he squinted at Marlene. "Where have I been seeing her before?"

"That's Marlene Nova, the liaison with the United Federation of Planets," the portly advisor replied in his deep rumble.

"Oh yes, that's her," Julian nodded, "but what are those ugly birds that she has brought in with her? They are even fatter that _you_ Maurice!"

"I'm big boned," Maurice growled.

"Have you ever been seeing such ridiculous freaks of nature?" Julian gestured at the marines. "Look at how small and puny their wings are compared to their corpulent and obese bodies! How could such ridiculous creatures fly with wings like those?"

"We don't fly, we swim, you stupid primate!" Skipper said without thinking.

As one all of the Lemurs gasped.

"Skipper, I don't think that you're winning hearts and minds," Kowalski said quietly out of the side of his beak.

"Did you hear that, Maurice?" Julian smiled and jumped up and down in his excitement. "They talked! Have you ever been seeing a talking bird before? That is amazing! Marlene! How did you do it? I did not be seeing your lips move! That is the incredible! You could go on top of the road!" His voice was softer as he asked her sweetly, "Could you do that again but this time, drinking a glass of water?"

"Uh," the Otter stammered. That was clearly not the response Marlene had been expecting.

"We aren't animals, lower mammal, we're people!" Skipper declared indignantly. "We're an intelligent species! We're a member race of the United Federation of Planets!"

"Oh really, flightless bird?" Julian smiled lazily from his wooden throne. "Then why are you naked?"

"We aren't naked," the private said meekly as he pulled on his collar to reveal the skintight outfit he was wearing. "These are body suits."

"What is with the weird style?" Julian asked. "What is it for?"

"They're battle dress uniforms…" the private explained before Skipper cut him off.

"They're tuxedoes!" he interrupted. "Formal wear in a style that originated on Earth! Rico, bowties!"

Rico gagged, and spit up four black bowties. As one the Penguins picked them up and tied them around their necks. They did it so fast one could hear the air squishing.

"Oh I see," Julian nodded.

"I don't know," Maurice said as his yellow eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Something's wrong. I don't know about these guys."

"Shame on you, Maurice!" Julian scolded. "Can not you see that you are insulting the freaks?" He turned his attention back to the birds. "You must tell me: Who the heck are you?"

"Sergeant Thomas Skipper, United Federation Marine Corps," Skipper saluted, and the rest of the Penguins did likewise.

"Ooh!" Julian shivered. "Did you hear that, Maurice? It sounded like a whip cracking! When they saluted it sounded like a whip cracking! What else can they do? Throw them some balls! Maybe they can juggle!"

"Uh, yeah," Skipper was taken aback by the reaction.

"Salute us again!" Julian shouted.

"No," Skipper's eyes became narrow slits.

"I will salute you first and then you can salute me back!" Julian declared. He saluted them with a flourish.

Driven by discipline and training, the Penguins returned the salute. There was the swishing of air and the crack of a whip.

"Again!" Julian jumped up and down. "They did it again Maurice! That is amazing! These freaks are so amusing! Let's light a ring on fire and see if they jump through it!"

"You don't understand, Ringtail," Skipper said as he attempted to get the king's attention. "We're here to welcome you into the United Federation of Planets."

"You are?" Julian seemed skeptical. "How do I know that you aren't imposters? Where are you from?"

"Manhattan," Skipper told him. "Uh, I mean, Earth."

"I've seen people who come from Earth," Julian told him. "They are hairless apes and not flightless portly birds."

"My parents came from Pengu," Skipper explained, "but I was born in New York. Earth is where I grew up."

"The Federation is one great melting pot," the private added.

"Well I hope you don't get eaten after you are melted in that pot," Julian retorted. "Tell me flightless birds, why should my planet be interested in your United Federation of Planets? What is in it for us?"

"The Federation provides many benefits," Skipper explained. "Free trade, protection from enemies…"

"…And a free exchange of ideas, scientific breakthroughs, and cultural paradigms," Kowalski added.

"Why would a cult give me a pair of dimes?" the king scratched his head. "No offense, but twenty cents doesn't give you a lot on this planet."

"Think of the amazing medical breakthroughs we've made in the last fifty years!" Skipper exclaimed. "Your people could enjoy a long and healthy lifestyle at that was unknown to their parents!"

"And the Federation has a great dental plan," the private added as he blinked innocently.

Julian, Maurice and a number of other Lemurs stared skeptically at the private who was, to be honest, an intelligent bird without a tooth in his head.

"So I've heard," the private added sheepishly.

"We do not need your medical breakings," Julian informed them. "Our planet is the healthiest in the known universe. We have an herb that cures cancer, a fruit that mends broken bones, and a flytrap that we have trained to do organ transplants."

"Heck the average life expectancy around here is two hundred and fifty," Maurice added. "It would probably be three hundred if people would cut down on bungee jumping."

"Okay, you don't need our medical technology," Skipper conceded, "but we can show you how to have a more egalitarian society. A society with no rich and no poor, where everybody reaps the benefits of a world without scarcity, how about that?"

"We've already got that silly fat and flightless bird," Julian laughed condescendingly. "Here on Lemuria everyone is equal to everybody else. Except for me, who is king. I'm more equal than the rest of us, but that's only because they forced me. I was born with this king thing and I can't get out of it, and I've tried. But being king isn't so bad; I get to see freaks like you! Pretty neat eh?"

"We're not freaks, we're Penguins!" Skipper scowled before he rubbed his forehead in pain. "Okay, forget about our culture for a minute. We can offer you technology that can do things that you couldn't dream of! We can make your lives easier in ways you couldn't imagine!"

"Actually our lives are already pretty easy," Julian shrugged losing interest. "If you made things any easier we all might get fat and out of shape like you. Take a look at Maurice, here. Life is a little too easy for him as you can see. If you made us a machine that could climb trees for us we might forget how. Do you see what I be meaning?"

"For the last time, I'm big boned," Maurice growled.

"Come on, work with me here!" Skipper growled. "Your warp program can barely get to light speed! Don't you and your people want to see the stars and visit distant worlds?"

"Warp program?" Maurice scratched his head. "What are you talking about?"

"I think he is talking about those two mad scientists who launched themselves into space," Julian shrugged. "They talked about warp driving but I just assumed that they let the damp air into their carpentry."

"Look we have technology that can accomplish miracles!" Skipper insisted. "For example, what about our universal translator? Without that, we wouldn't be able to talk to each other!"

"Yes we would," Julian smiled. He reached into Maurice's rather large ear and pulled out what appeared to be a goldfish. "Dis fish here feeds on telepathic tings like. It takes your words and den poops out da words in our speaking tings. We can understand anybody in da world even if dey are like mumbling like real bad." He tossed the fish over to Kowalski who caught it and examined it with a jeweler's lens.

"Remarkable!" the brainy Penguin gasped. "I always thought that the Babel Fish was a myth! It appears that this creature feeds off the thoughts of the person speaking and excretes a translated version for the being whose ear it's in! Fantastic! Total, harmless, nontechnological translation!"

Rico took the goldfish out of Kowalski's flippers and swallowed it.

"And apparently it tastes good with butter," Kowalski added.

"The king's must be sick," Skipper blocked his beak with his flipper as he muttered to the taller bird.

* * *

Meanwhile, thousands of light-years away, the officers of the _Madagascar _prepared to rescue their wayward personnel.

"Okay, Commander, we're now in standard orbit," the zebra said from the helm station.

"Thanks Marty," the lion nodded. "Melman, how are those repairs going?"

* * *

In a narrow tube filled with conduit, the giraffe had extended his neck to get at the fried circuits. "Everything's okay here, Alex," Melman said as hand tools levitated around him. "I just love the telekinesis I have in this story! Hands-free is the only way to go!"

* * *

"Okay, when you're done, meet us in the transporter room," Alex nodded on the bridge. "Gloria, are we still hearing from the landing party?"

"Yeah Alex," the hippo replied from the communications console, "but they just lost two more crewmembers. They went missing. One minute they were there, and the next minute they were gone!"

"Okay, lets get the ready room outside the transporter room," the lion nodded. "It sounds like they don't have very much time left!"

* * *

Soon the lion, the zebra, the hippo and the giraffe were in a room with chairs, a table and a wall full of lockers.

"Okay, let's pass out the equipment," Alex said as he opened a locker. "Everybody gets a tricorder, a phaser pistol, and a communicator."

As Alex tossed them to the rest of his team, Melman used his telekinesis to make his communicator levitate right in front or his face. "Are you sure these things are futuristic enough Alex? I've seen cell phones that look more high-tech than this!"

"Marty, quit dropping yours," Gloria scolded.

"It's not my fault," the zebra insisted as he got on all fours to recover his equipment. "I don't have opposable thumbs! I can't get a hold of them like you can."

"Say what?" the hippo put her hand on her round and expansive hips. "How do you fly the ship then?"

"I just use my hooves to press the buttons," Marty shrugged. "It's not like I gotta have thumbs to fly a starship."

"This is ridiculous," Alex shook his head in disbelief. "You're not a zebra in this story, you're an alien that looks like a zebra. If you could join Starfleet, you must have a way to pick things up! Maybe your people have suction cups on the bottom of your hooves or something."

"Oh yeah, look at that," the zebra smiled as he picked up his phaser. "Thanks Alex!"

Gloria rolled her eyes.

"Okay, one more thing to consider," Melman said. "I don't want to beam down until I change my uniform."

"What's wrong with your uniform?" Alex asked as Marty hung his gear on his belt.

"It's _red_ for one thing!" the giraffe said indignantly. "I don't even watch _Star Trek_ but even _I_ know that the guy wearing the red shirt always _dies_!"

"No he doesn't," Gloria insisted. "That's just the extras."

"Even so, I'm not beaming down until I change my uniform," Melman insisted stubbornly.

"You're our engineer," Marty pointed out. "In the original series they wore red."

"So what?" Melman said timidly. "I can transfer to sciences. I could be a paleontologist. I sound like a paleontologist. If I could play an engineer I could be a paleontologist with a PhD and everything!"

"Hey wait minute!" Gloria said as she looked down at her skirt. "I'm wearing red too!"

"I thought you said that only extras get killed on a mission," Alex murmured.

"That was before I realized that I was wearing red too!" Gloria huffed. "Melman might be right. Better safe that sorry!"

"So what are you going to be?" Marty quipped. "Gonna get a PhD in physics or somthin'?"

"No I'm gonna transfer to medical 'cause you'd be surprised how fast I can put you in the hospital!" the hippo growled as she shook her fist.

"Okay, go change," Alex sighed as he leaned back against the table. "We'll wait, but at this rate there won't be anyone left to rescue."

_Next: Four to Beam Down _


	4. Four to Beam Down

**Star Trek: Madagascar**

by Galaxy1001D

_The Penguins of Madagascar_ television series and the movies _Madagascar_ and _Madagascar_ _2: Escape to Africa_ are the properties of Nickelodeon and Dreamworks Animation, Viacom, CBS and a bunch of other guys. Additional material owned by 20th Century Fox. Star Trek is owned by Paramount, who is also owned by CBS. This story has been written for the purpose of entertainment only. No attempt has been made to use this document for profit.

_Chapter Four: Four to Beam Down_

"Skipper's Log, Stardate 2009.4. The team and I are still on Lemuria, still attempting to open negotiations with the Lemur king, Julian the thirteenth. So far, no dice. Apparently the lower mammal is too ignorant to see the benefits the United Federation of Planets can give to this mudball."

The grizzled sergeant stopped recording and turned to his corporal. "Kowalski, think! There must be some benefit we can bring to this primitive and backwards planet."

"Erm, I'm afraid I can't think of anything, Skipper," Kowalski admitted hesitantly. "I've been conferring with Marlene and so far we can't find anything that we can bring to Lemuria with the exception of contaminating their culture."

"Contaminating their culture?" Skipper repeated in disbelief. "Marlene is this true? This planet can't be that great, can it?"

"I'm afraid it can," the Otter admitted shamefully. "Their world provides for all of their needs. Without scarcity, the Lemurs have successfully eliminated war, greed, famine, disease, social injustice, bigotry, and crime. Socially, this society qualifies on every level for full membership in the Federation. Why else do you think that we are willing to waive the waiting period that everybody has to go through to get in? This time it's the Federation that can benefit from this planet, not the other way around."

"Preposterous!" Skipper scoffed. "I haven't seen any machine more sophisticated than the garbage can around here!"

"That's because they don't need anything more sophisticated than the trash can," Marlene informed him. "They don't really need a trash can either. All of their refuse is biodegradable, and the insects and animal life pretty much take care of that with no fuss."

"But surely without a natural enemy like disease to control their numbers their population would put a strain even on Lemuria's resources," Kowalski offered. "Wouldn't overpopulation bring the Lemurs the same problems that other cultures have had to face?"

"Not this time," Marlene replied. "Without war or violence to put their excess energy to, the Lemurs are huge fans of risk taking. Hang gliding and bungee jumping are two of the most popular sports. Nearly every Lemur of every age does some stupid and suicidal act every day."

"Surely you must be joking," the private gasped in horror. He turned to an underage golden Lemur who was assigned to be their valet while they were visiting. "Mort, if someone told you to jump off the balcony, would you?"

The little Lemur blinked his eyes cheerfully. "Jump off the edge?" he asked in a high squeaky voice. "Okay!" Before the private could stop him he turned and dashed out of the treehouse the Lemurs had provided the Penguins during their stay.

The private waddled after the little Lemur as fast as his feet could carry him. "Wait! Mort! I didn't mean..!"

It was too late. Before young Penguin's horrified eyes, Mort jumped over the rope railing and plunged into the green canopy below. "Yeeeeee….!" The Lemur screamed, but out of fear or excitement was unknown. The private flinched as he heard a sickening impact below, but was relieved to hear Mort's voice call out: "I'm okay…!"

Rico, who was standing with his flippers on the railing, looked down and laughed cruelly.

Back inside, the conversation continued as if the private hadn't asked a Lemur to kill himself.

"This is ridiculous!" Skipper huffed in frustration. "We can at least teach these people not to foolishly risk their lives can't we?"

"I'm afraid not," Marlene shook her head. "Not without violating the Prime Directive."

"The Prime Directive?" Skipper's eyes bulged in confusion. "'Never swim alone'? What does that have to do with anything?"

"No!" Marlene stomped her foot. "That's not the Prime Directive!"

"'Never cover yourself in barbeque sauce when swimming next to a hungry sea lion'?" Kowalski offered.

"Wrong again," Marlene frowned. "For crying out loud, when I joined the Diplomatic Corps, I swore an oath. I'm assuming that you did too. It's the same oath that all branches of the government and Starfleet have to adhere to! Didn't you promise to uphold the Prime Directive too?"

"But of course!" Skipper stood proudly at attention. "Of course I did. We all did. But that was back in boot camp. It's been a while since then."

"Come on!" Marlene's eyes bulged in disbelief. "Don't you have a copy of the Federation Credo displayed in your briefing room?"

"Yes…" Kowalski squinted and looked at the ceiling as he tried to recall it. He had dim memories of a government document tacked to the bulletin board that had photographs of Rico and a smiling blonde female human at the beach pinned over it.

"Okay then what is the Prime Directive?" Marlene put her hands on her hips. "Recite it to me if you know it so well."

"I, Thomas M. Skipper, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United Federation of Planets against all enemies foreign and domestic…" the sergeant recited.

"To explore strange new worlds," Kowalski added.

"…that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same…" Skipper continued.

"To seek out new life and new civilizations…" Kowalski annouced proudly.

"…and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United Federation of Planets and the orders of the officers appointed over me…" Skipper chanted.

"To boldly go where no man has gone before!" Kowalski cheered.

"…according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Starfleet Military Justice. So help me God," Skipper finished. He put the tips of his flippers on his hips and glared at the female Otter. "There. You happy now?"

"Uh no, that wasn't even close to the Federation Credo," Marlene crossed her arms in disgust. "You're not even close. I can't believe you guys forgot the Prime Directive! It's the principle the Federation was founded on!"

"We didn't forget…" Skipper said uneasily as he thought quickly. "We just wanted to see if _you_ know what the Prime Directive is."

"Huh?" Marlene raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"You know, to make sure that you really are who you say you are and not the agent of a foreign power trying to sabotage our mission," Skipper smirked in triumph. "If you really belong to the Federation Diplomatic Corps you should be able to recite it from memory."

"Ha-ha," she said flatly. "Nice try, you guys, but it's not gonna work. You jarheads don't even know the basic principles you're supposed to give your lives to defend do you?"

"Yes we do," Skipper insisted. "We're just testing you."

"Then tell me what it is," Marlene retorted.

Kowalski flipped through his notebook while Skipper bought him some time.

"Marlene, every marine has the Prime Directive drilled into him so he never forgets," Skipper announced confidently. "Even the lowliest private could tell you what it is, am I right, Private?"

"What?" the private had just reentered the room and had missed the entire conversation.

"Private, tell this ignorant mammal the definition of the Prime Directive," Skipper ordered.

"But of course, Skippah," the young Penguin seemed nervous to be put on the spot. "Everybody in the service knows. The Prime Directive our most sacred law. It's the noninterference code forbidding us to influence or contaminate a culture that is either not ready for us or doesn't want us to."

"See Marlene, I told you that we knew," Skipper flashed a devil-may-care grin. Then he did a double take. "What? We aren't allowed to affect a foreign culture?"

"No, Skippah, of course not," the private said in a worried voice. "If we did that the entire Federation would fall apart. Our own member worlds wouldn't trust us."

"He's got a point there, Skipper," Kowalski chimed in sadly.

"Every member of the military is expected to lay down their life if doing so will prevent a culture from being affected by our presence," the private explained. "They drilled that into us in boot camp. I thought you knew that, Skippah."

"Uh… yeah!" the sergeant stammered. "Yeah! Of course I knew! Everybody knows that!"

"Oh yes, of course," Kowalski nodded a bit too quickly.

"Uh-huh, right," Marlene muttered sarcastically. "Anywho, as you can see, our hands are tied. The only way we can interfere with this culture is if they ask us to. Otherwise we can't do anything."

"This is getting harder than I thought," Skipper exclaimed.

* * *

Meanwhile, hundreds of light-years away, the starship _Madagascar_ orbited the desolate colony world of LV-426.

"Okay," Alex the lion said as he stepped onto the transporter pad. "Alice prepare to beam us down."

Behind the transporter was a stout female human with red hair tied back in a severe bun. She wasn't dressed in sexy uniform with a miniskirt the way the female officers usually did. Instead she was in a utilitarian worksuit and a baseball cap that emphasized her rather dumpy form. "Sorry, commander, that's a no go. Can't get a lock down there. Is this thing on?"

"Are you sure an enlisted person should be manning the transporter?" Melman the giraffe muttered into Marty's ear. "I mean, she doesn't look very capable to me."

"C'mon Melman she's the transporter chief," the zebra assured him. "I'm sure she knows what she's doing."

"They've got a restroom down there, right?" Gloria the hippo asked from her transporter pad. "'Cause I'm not gonna go on the ground like some zoo animal!" When the lion, the zebra and the giraffe turned their heads to stare at her she added: "What? What did I say?"

"Here's your problem," Alice said in her rather snippy voice. "It looks like the colony was built over a deposit of Kelbonite. Can't beam you down closer than two miles to that place."

"Kelbonite?" Alex repeated. "What the heck is 'Kelbonite'?"

"It's some kind of metal that interferes with transporters," Marty explained. "Did any of you guys see _Star Trek: Insurrection_?"

"Was that the one with the Borg in it?" Melman asked.

"Nope," the zebra shook his head.

"Uh, okay then, no," the giraffe shrugged.

"You sure watch a lot of TV, Marty," Gloria teased.

"Man, I gotta get a life," Marty grumbled.

"Okay, fine, we'll take a shuttle," Alex decided. "Happy?"

"Not particularly," Melman grumbled. "We're still going down into a danger zone! We're talking certain death here!"

"Come on, guys!" Alex insisted. "Phil and Mason are counting on us! It's our fault that they're down there in the first place; we've got to rescue them!"

"Okay, we're coming Alex," Marty sighed. "Don't get all hyper, _sheesh_."

"Shouldn't we bring some redshirts?" Melman asked as they walked off the transporter platform and strode to the exit. "Before we go, we should calculate every possible way some one could die and then bring that number of redshirts just to be safe. Whad'ayah say?"

"Melman, Phil and Mason have an entire landing party with them," the lion explained as they left the room. "They have whole bunch of redshirts with them. Don't worry about it."

After they left, Alice rolled her eyes and grunted in disgust. "Officers!"

* * *

Back on the tropical paradise of Lemuria Two, Skipper was getting frustrated. "You mean we can't do anything? Teach them how to defend themselves or at least wear a helmet when doing something stupid?"

"Nope," Marlene shook her head. "Unless they specifically ask, we can't even offer it."

"If these people are so technologically primitive, why are we even allowed on this planet?" Kowalski asked her.

"We detected a warp signature and came to investigate," Marlene explained. "We rescued two of their astronauts from certain doom, when their spaceship malfunctioned. The problem was, our cultural team was down here for three months before we found out that their scientists just _found_ that spacecraft."

"Those Grays never _did_ learn how to drive," Skipper chuckled.

"To make a long story short, the Lemurs were so sophisticated socially and their planet offered us so many opportunities that we decided to go ahead with the cultural assessment anyway," Marlene continued. "They passed with flying colors. The problem is, the quality of life on this planet is _so_ good that they have no reason to deal with us."

"Cheese and crackers!" Skipper swore. "I've been trained for situations where the local area's gone to heck in a handbasket; I've never been trained for a situation where nothing's wrong before!"

"Ugh!" Rico nodded.

"Skippah?" Private frowned and tilted his head. "What's that noise?"

"It's some kind of engine!" Kowalski exclaimed.

"Let's go outside, boys," Skipper smiled grimly. "I've got my freak on for recon!"

Outside they saw a metal craft that looked like an upside down tulip land in the middle of the largest wooden platform that wasn't covered with treehouses. A door opened and number of tiny rodent-like bipeds scurried out and brandished weapons. Each were wearing a gray uniform that not only matched the color of their fur but also resembled the style of uniform worn by German soldiers during the second World War. Following them was a three meter tall ratlike humanoid with broad shoulders and bulging muscles wearing the uniform of an officer.

"Residents of this primitive and puny planet!" the giant rat bellowed in a rough voice. "As of this moment this planet and all of its resources have been annexed by the Space Rat Empire!"

_Next: Rats  
_


	5. Rats

**Star Trek: Madagascar**

by Galaxy1001D

_The Penguins of Madagascar_ television series and the movies _Madagascar_ and _Madagascar_ _2: Escape to Africa_ are the properties of Nickelodeon and Dreamworks Animation, Viacom, CBS and a bunch of other guys. Additional material owned by 20th Century Fox. Star Trek is owned by Paramount, who is also owned by CBS. This story has been written for the purpose of entertainment only. No attempt has been made to use this document for profit.

_Chapter Five: Rats_

"Your majesty, what should we do?" Maurice asked his king.

"Flee for your lives!" Julian cried. "We've got lots of planet and they're just one pack of rodents! We don't gotta stay here! Run away with your tails between your legs! It will make it difficult for those mouse people to grab a hold of your tails," he added coyly.

Soon the entire settlement was empty, as the Lemur's climbed, ran, or swung to safety.

"Hey, where did everybody go?" one of the little rats rasped.

"So much for subjugating the populace," the big rat grunted. "Oh well, in the meantime let's take everything that's not nailed down. If there's room in our spaceship, we'll come back and take the nailed stuff too! Heh-heh-heh…"

"Orders, Skipper?" Kowalski asked.

"I'm going to make contact with our visitors," Skipper decided. "In the meantime, cover me. Make yourself scarce. I don't want them to know how many of us there are."

"Roger on that," Kowalski nodded as he dropped prone and rolled away.

"Aye-aye Skippah," the private acknowledged when he waddled off.

"Ah-huh," Rico grunted as he saluted before he smashed through the wall of one of the huts on the wooden platform that held the Lemur village. The hole he left behind him matched his profile perfectly.

After the other three Penguins scattered, Skipper turned to the Otter. "So Miss Diplomatic Corps, are you going to make first contact with me or am I flying solo?"

"Skipper, those guys look dangerous," Marlene cautioned. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"C'mon, Marlene, they're a new species!" the Penguin teased. "Isn't that what we're out here for, seek out new life and new civilizations? Of course, if you're scared, I understand. You can stay here and hide. I won't judge."

"Grr!" Marlene frowned and clenched her fists, but she was so cute and cuddly that Skipper quietly chuckled. "Okay!" the Otter exclaimed. "I'll go with you, but only because without someone trained in diplomacy, you'll start a fight and get yourself killed!"

"Okay then, watch my back," Skipper purred as he turned and waddled towards the invading rodents.

Marlene shook her head in disbelief and frustration. She had completely lost control of the situation. She knew that she wasn't part of Skipper's chain of command, but she was pretty sure that if she could find the proper regulation she could give him orders. He was only an enlisted man after all. On the other hand his incredible self-confidence did seem to what was needed right now, so she decided to keep quiet and follow his lead. She dashed after him until the rodents turned in their direction, and then slowed to a creeping pace.

"Ahoy there, hostile rodentia!" Skipper called out. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"Hello puny and primitive bird creature," the huge and hulking rat officer sneered in disdain. "I've come to tell you that we're here to take over your planet. Feel free to organize your people into little slave groups…"

"Whoa there bucktoothed mammal," Skipper interrupted as he put his flippers out in a halting action. "The Otter and I aren't from this planet. We're part of a diplomatic team here to open relations with the natives."

"Oh really, bird?" the rodent officer grinned arrogantly. "Well you better open relations with us because we're the power around here now."

"Okay," Skipper shrugged as Marlene timidly crept up to them. "So tell me about yourselves. Who are you? Where are you from? What is your system of government?" And how many of you are there and what are you armed with? Skipper added silently.

Marlene flinched and clenched her hands to her chest as the tiny ratlike troopers harmlessly bullied her.

"Look bird, I'm kind of busy right now," the giant rat officer shrugged. "I'll let you talk to my information officers while I take over the planet. I'll get back to you in a day or so."

"Sound fair," Skipper shrugged his shoulders again. "Where are the little guys?"

"Here you go, you primitive bird creature," a tiny rat trooper said sarcastically as he and a second trooper carried a large hardcover tome over to the avian sergeant.

"This book contains everything you need to know about our society and culture," the second rodent sneered dryly as he and his fellow set it down. "Assuming you know how to read you ignorant savage," he added disrespectfully.

"Learn to read quickly you primitive bird creature," the first one ordered.

"And don't get the book dirty, 'cause we'll be wanting it back when you're done!" the second one sneered.

"Can do," Skipper said as he picked up the book and carried it under his arm.

"Wow," Marlene's eyes widened in admiration as she and Skipper walked away from the looting rats. "That went better than I expected!"

"The first step in any operation is to gather intel," Skipper smiled. "All I had to do was use their arrogance against them. I'll give this to Kowalski to analyze. Assuming this isn't an attempt at deliberate misinformation we'll know what we're up against. Then we can ask that nutty ringtail if he'll let us provide assistance. If he says yes, there's no Prime Directive violation. Happy now?"

Marlene had the decency to look properly chagrined. "Yes Skipper, sorry I doubted you."

"That's okay, Marlene," the Penguin smiled and was magnanimous in victory. "Looking like an ignorant jarhead can be an advantage sometimes. That arrogant rodent assumed that I was just some dumb yokel. He'll be in for the surprise of his life when he realizes he's wrong…"

* * *

Meanwhile, hundreds of lightyears away, Alex, Marty, Melman and Gloria assembled in the _Madagascar'_s shuttlebay.

"Ow!" the giraffe exclaimed as he hit his head as he entered the shuttle. "Man! For a politically correct multispecies organization, Starfleet doesn't make a lot of allowances for nonhumaniod types."

"Relax Melman," the hippo assured him. "The seats are adjustable. You can take out the backs and sit in a seat and the one in front of it if you have to."

Marty and Alex sat in the pilot and copilot's seat. "Are you sure you know how to fly this thing, Marty?" the lion asked as he recalled the chilling aerial scenes from the second _Madagascar _movie. "I don't want to be a worry-wart, but how many hours do you have on this thing?"

"Hey don't worry about it, Alex," the zebra told him. "In this story we're Starfleet officers and not zoo animals. I'm the chief helmsman. Flying a space shuttle is like riding a bike to me."

"Ow!" Melman hit his head on the low seating of the shuttle. "I could use a little head room here!"

"How many zebras do you see riding bikes?" Gloria asked. Alex and Marty turned to give her dirty looks and then looked at each other. Shrugging they turned to face the cockpit window and get back into character.

"Shuttlecraft _Darwin_ to _Madagasacar_," Alex said as he randomly pushed some buttons. "We're ready to disembark, over."

"_Madagascar_ to shuttlecraft _Darwin_," came the response from the hidden speakers, "We have depressurized the hangar and are opening the hanger doors. You have permission for takeoff, over."

"Wow!" Melman's head imposed itself between the zebra and the lion. "Look guys, the doors opening! There's outer space! The special effects are incredible!"

"Ah it's all CGI," Marty shrugged disdainfully. "It looked more realistic when it was models and green screen."

"Melman, we can't drive with your head in the way!" Alex protested as he pushed the giraffe's head into the zebra.

"Oof, he's right, Melman," Marty said as the giraffe's head bumped into him. "Back off will 'ya? Give us some room!"

"Hey!" the giraffe protested as his head was pushed back and forth between them. "Take it easy you guys! Not so rough!"

"Keep your eyes on the road!" Gloria told them as the shuttle weaved drunkenly out of the shuttlebay and into the blackness of outer space.

"Wow!" Marty gasped as the black and white planet surface filled the window of the cockpit. "Will you look at that, fellas? An alien world!"

"Hey leggo, Alex!" the giraffe protested as the lion kept a hold of Melman's head.

"Not a chance, Melman," Alex said firmly. "Not until Marty lands this thing."

"Okay, we're entering the atmosphere now," Marty told them.

"You've got your fingers in my face!" Melman whined as he struggled to escape Alex's grip. "You're poking my eye, and you've got claws! Come on, cut me some slack here!"

"We're almost down," Alex assured him.

"Alex, let me go! You're hurting my eye!" Melman cried. "Don't make me use the force here!"

Against his better judgment, Alex let Melman go. The giraffe's head bounced against the roof of the shuttle and then slammed against the protesting zebra. Melman's head dragged along the roof as he bent his long neck and tried to find room, but the shuttle was too small. In desperation, he used his telekinesis to open a hatch on the roof.

"Aaaaaaah!" they all screamed as the shuttle lost pressure and wind whistled past them and threatened to suck them out of their seats.

"What did you do, Melman?" the zebra demanded.

"I thought it was an overhead luggage compartment, I swear!" the giraffe protested.

"You idiot, if I can't regain control we're all dead!" Marty cried.

"Close the hatch!" Alex ordered.

"Yee-ah!" Melman screamed as his head popped out of the overhead hatch and dangled outside like a tin can on a newlywed's car.

"We can't! Melman's head is outside!" Gloria told them as the hatch automatically tried to close.

"Gah! Urk! Gulk! Guh!" Melman grimaced as the hatch opened and closed on his incredibly long neck. The wind pushed the skin on his face back as shuttlecraft _Darwin_ left the ashy white clouds to plummet down to the onyx ground below.

Meanwhile, inside the cockpit, Alex chose that moment to make a confession.

"Marty! If we don't make it through this I want you to know that the best friend a guy ever had!"

"Thanks buddy!" the zebra shouted over the wind whistling around them as he struggled with the controls. To be honest, it was hard to hold onto the flight stick since he had hooves instead of fingers, but even so Marty didn't give up. "Don't count us out yet! We're going to get through this!"

"Yeah, but in case we don't!" Alex shouted over Gloria's screaming. "In case this is it, there's something I gotta tell ya!"

"It's okay, buddy, whatever hit is, it doesn't matter!" Marty growled as he pulled back on the stick with all his might.

"Yes it does!" Alex cried. "If we don't come out of this, I gotta tell ya that I lost your communicator!"

"What!" Marty forgot the stick and gave Alex his full attention. "Are talking my _Star Trek_ TM communicator? The one from _Wrath of Khan_?"

"That's the one," Alex nodded helplessly.

"You idiot!" Marty cried. "That thing was a collector's item! Only three of them are left in existence! Are you telling me you lost it?"

"I'm sorry!" Alex confessed the shuttle tumbled out of control. "I thought it was a cell phone! I took it with me! When it didn't work I thought its battery was out of power! I must have set it down somewhere and forgot! I have no idea where it is! You've got to trust me on this!"

"Trust you!" Marty scowled in rage. "That thing was worth a fortune! I'll kill you!" he started beating on Alex with his hooves.

"I'm sorry!" Alex slapped back to protect himself with his forepaws. Soon both the pilot and the copilot were closing their eyes and looking away was they slapped at each other like little girls.

Gloria stopped screaming to unbuckle her seatbelt. "I don't believe this!" she cried as she lurched out of her seat. Sure enough, the mass of a portly hippo was enough to resist being sucked into the air by escaping gasses. She pushed the lion and the zebra aside and seized the controls herself. "Hurgg!" she grunted as she put her weight into wresting the joystick.

At the last moment the shuttle stopped its vertical descent and roared off across the surface of the planet like a low flying airplane.

"Okay, here we go!" Gloria announced as she frowned in concentration.

"Aaaaah!" Melman screamed as he struggled to get his head back inside the shuttle.

"Yaaah!" Marty yelled as he put his hooves before his face in an instinctive gesture.

"We're gonna die….!" Alex shouted as he gripped his chair in fear.

"Come… on… don't… fight me!" Gloria grunted as she struggled with the stick.

At that moment Melman finally managed to get his head back inside the shuttle, but once again his incredibly long neck betrayed him and forced his head forward, knocking down Gloria in the process.

The shuttle skipped across the ground like a rock thrown across a pond. Suddenly it bounced off a hill and rolled forward across the black and barren surface of the planet knocking over fragile rock formations as it passed. Eventually it slid across the ground until it gradually came to a stop.

Inside, Alex was trembling and clinging to his seat cushion so hard that his claws got stuck in the upholstery. Marty was hugging him and staring out the window in shock. Melman's eyes bulged out as he breathed into plastic cup attached to a tube that supplied oxygen.

"That's it," the hippopotamus announced. "Next time we take the bus."

_Next: Firearms Demonstration _


	6. Firearms Demonstration

**Star Trek: Madagascar**

by Galaxy1001D

_The Penguins of Madagascar_ television series and the movies _Madagascar_ and _Madagascar_ _2: Escape to Africa_ are the properties of Nickelodeon and Dreamworks Animation, Viacom, CBS and a bunch of other guys. Additional material owned by 20th Century Fox. Star Trek is owned by Paramount, who is also owned by CBS. This story has been written for the purpose of entertainment only. No attempt has been made to use this document for profit.

_Chapter Six: Firearms Demonstration_

Hidden in the trees overlooking the Lemur village, King Julian whispered to his subordinate. "I have a plan, " he said slyly.

"Really," Maurice raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Oh yes," Julian nodded, "The cleveriest plan plan that I am planning. To find out if these rodents are deadly killers. It was my plan. Oh yes. My plan. My cunning plan is… to let the freaky birds talk to the rats and see if the invaders murder them or not."

"Ah-huh," Maurice frowned in contempt.

"Okay, all we have to do is wait until the birds go over to the rats and bug them," Julian said quietly as the two Lemurs gazed at the Penguins from their perch hidden in the foliage. "Then, if they kill them, we'll know. Shh," Julian put his finger to his lips and all of the Lemurs hidden in the nearby trees resumed their silent vigil. After a moment, Julian leaped up in frustration and bellowed, "HOW LONG IS THIS GOING TO TAKE?"

The Penguins and Marlene glanced up from the book the rodents lent them and turned to look into the trees. "Kowalski, intel?" Skipper asked as the taller and brainy Penguin flipped through the heavy and brassbound book.

"Fascinating," Kowalski exclaimed softly as he flipped through the tome's pages. "This is incredible! The last thing I expected."

"Oh dear," the private shuddered as he clasped his flippers together in a meek and feminine way.

"Huh?" Rico raised an eyebrow suspiciously as Kowalski continued his speed-reading demonstration.

"Kowalski what is it?" Marlene shuddered as she unconsciously mimicked the private's body language. "Who are these people? Where are they from?"

"How much of known space have they conquered?" Skipper asked him. "How come we've never heard of this species before? Do they have a technological advantage over us?"

"Hm?" Kowalski looked up from the book and looked at Skipper with distracted eyes. "Oh, it's nothing like that Skipper. Quite the opposite."

"The opposite?" Marlene squinted skeptically.

"Explain," Skipper ordered.

"Based off the information in this tome, I can easily report that socially and technologically, they are many centuries behind us," Kowalski said breezily.

"_Behind_ us?" Now it was Skipper's turn to squint and raise a brow skeptically.

"Oh yes," Kowalski continued. "Most of their structures are made of wood or stone, with the common citizen living in a wood and thatch hut or cottage. Leeches are considered the latest medical breakthrough and local craftsmen handle manufacturing duties."

"What?" Skipper scowled in disbelief. "Are you telling me these guys are still in the dark ages?"

"Small wonder they wanted their book back," Kowalski mused. "It's handwritten. They haven't even invented the printing press yet."

"Why those smart aleck savages," Skipper growled. "They were so arrogant and lording it over everybody! They probably think the crossbow is the ultimate weapon!"

"Wait a minute," Marlene interrupted. "If these guys are so primitive, how did they manage to build a spaceship that could get them here? If they don't even have electricity, a spaceship should be _way _out of their league!"

"My guess is that they just found it," Kowalski offered. "Apparently the same species that discarded their spacecraft on this world must have left one on the rodent's planet too."

"They must have made the manual _really_ user friendly," Skipper quipped.

Kowalski took him seriously. "That's not a bad hypothesis, Skipper. Even if their warp program was behind us, there's no reason that this species couldn't have ergonomic control technology that is miles ahead of…"

"That's well and good, Kowalski," Skipper interrupted, "but I think it's time that we educated the rats about _our_ culture."

"What's on your mind, Skippah?" the private smiled.

"Oh nothing much," the sergeant smiled evilly. "They were straight with us. I just think we ought to return the favor. Let 'em know what _we_ are capable of."

Rico laughed evilly.

Hundreds of lightyears away, four animals dressed as Starfleet officers gazed sadly at the bleak and desolate horizon. The ground of black rock, the colorless sky was filled with grayish ash.

"Can we go the _fun_ side of the planet now?" Melman asked.

Back on the tropical planet of Lemuria, Skipper and the rest of the Penguins waddled confidently up to the looting rodents.

"Hello, marauding rodents!" Skipper called as he approached them. "How is the sacking and pillaging going?"

"Pretty good, bird, can't complain," the space rats' three-meter tall leader replied in an amused tone. "So, are you done with our book?"

"Yes, indeed," the Penguin sergeant handed it back to the rodent officer. "And I must admit, it was some interesting reading."

"So, you're now aware of how out of your league your people are compared to ours," the giant rat smirked. "So you know, you have no chance against us. When you return to your primitive and backwards world, instruct your leaders to prepare tribute for when we arrive…"

"Hold on there, rodent," Skipper raised his flipper in a halting gesture. "Do I understand that you intend this planet as a staging ground to invade mine?"

"Why not?" the giant rat grinned evilly. "It's pretty obvious that you primitive flightless birds will be easy pickings!"

"That's right you primitive bird creature!" one of the smaller rats chimed in. "We need dirt for our roads, and you're going to give it to us! You don't have a chance against our superior technology!"

"Oh really?" Skipper raised a cocky eyebrow. "If you're planning to attack us, that means that our noninterference directive no longer applies."

"Is that some kind of threat, you primitive bird creature?" the smaller rat bristled. "You think your puny technology can beat ours?"

"I'd say the odds are better than average," Skipper smiled calmly.

"Ha! That's a good one!" The giant rat leader scoffed. From behind his back he produced a metal and wood firearm that resembled an archaic rifle of some sort. "Shall we have at you with our muskets, then?"

"That's an impressive piece of firepower there," Skipper raised his eyebrow appreciatively. "Mind if Kowalski takes a look at it?"

"Why not?" the rat leader shrugged. "It's not as if you stupid savages have the know-how to shoot it right." He handed it to the brainy Penguin.

"Kowalski, analysis," Skipper ordered.

"Fascinating!" the taller Penguin as he turned it over in his flippers and peered at the various parts of it. "It appears to be a single shot smoothbore muzzle-loaded firearm that more closely resembles the arquebus on Earth during their 15th century than the Brown Bess musket of the 18th century. The matchlock mechanism connected to the lever causes a slowburning match to ignite a pan filled with black powder that ignites the charge causing a low velocity projectile to exit the barrel." He handed the rodent's weapon to Rico, who studied it intently before swallowing it.

"How interesting," Skipper nodded before he turned to face the rat leader. "Do you mind if we test to see how it stacks up against the Federation's latest and greatest?"

"Ha!" the large rodent scoffed in disdain. "What have you savages got that can compete with _our_ weapons?"

"I'll show you," Skipper turned to his weapons expert. "Rico, arm me!"

The scarred Penguin gagged a futuristic pistol flew out of his mouth. Skipper caught it with one flipper and pivoted to face the rodents. "This my little cheese-eating friends is the Williams Weapons type two phaser pistol. The standard sidearm of Starfleet, it is a multipurpose device that can function as both a tool and a weapon. It fires a nadion particle beam at a variety of frequencies and since it's totally recoilless, a proficient marksman doesn't even need sights. It can be set to produce a number of effects from a mild stun to the total disintegration of a three-hundred kilo target. Observe." He pivoted to face his team. "Rico! Pull!"

With a nauseating gag the scarred Penguin ejected the rodent's arquebus and sent it tumbling into the air. Skipper spun the phaser pistol in his flipper and fired a glowing pulse of energy into the air. The bolt struck the matchlock weapon and disintegrated it entirely.

Skipper blew over the emitter of his ray gun even though the futuristic firearm was completely smokeless. "Did I mention it has no recoil? Even without sights, this puppy is easily accurate up to a hundred yards, and with the proper sights and a shoulder stock, the range goes up to line of sight… Am I going to fast for you?"

The rat officer and his smaller subordinates were staring in shock at the destruction of their firearm. The frightened yet deflated looks on their faces inspired a smiling Rico to regurgitate a camera so he could capture this moment. As the Penguin took their picture, the rat leader gulped and glanced down at his subordinates.

"Where did you say you were from again?" the rodent's officer asked in a quiet voice.

"Oh my ancestors come from the planet Pengu, a member world of the United Federation of Planets, an interstellar federal republic that consists of about a hundred member worlds. We've agreed to share our knowledge and resources for mutual benefit. Where are you from? You know, in case we ever want to come over and visit _you_? Where is _your_ planet if I might ask?"

The smaller rodents clustered around their leader who cowered and backed up to the bell shaped spaceship that had brought them to this world in the first place. "Uh… We have to go," he stammered. "This is just one of the many planets we are thinking of conquering. When we get home, we're gonna compare it with the rest of the worlds we've visited and then make our final decision. If we decide to take over this world, we'll let ya know!"

"Consider yourselves lucky!" one of the smaller rats rasped as the rodents backed into the entry hatch on their spacecraft. "Your planet isn't good enough!" With that, they closed the airlock and their spaceship rose up into the air to fly away and disappear in the distance.

"Mission accomplished, men!" Skipper smiled as he and his fellow marines slapped each other's flippers in celebration. "Those rodents will think twice before messing up our interstellar community."

"Well I hate to admit it," a smiling Marlene said as she walked over to them, "but you guys handled yourselves really well. I'm impressed."

"Well all it took was a peaceful exchange of information to prevent any hostilities," Skipper purred. "I always say that proper communication can eliminate prejudice and prevent any conflict."

"No you don't," the private scratched his head with his flipper. "You always say that force is the universal language."

"Exactly," Skipper slapped the young private in the beak. "Sometimes force is the best way to communicate. Just ask Captain Kirk. When diplomacy fails, sometimes you just have to punch an alien in the face."

As he spoke, the wooden platforms that the huts of the Lemur village were on were quickly filling with Lemurs as the inhabitants of the world swung, climbed, or leaped back into their settlement.

"Hooray!" King Julian cheered. "The birdlike freaks scared away the rodents! This calls for a celebration! This is much better than waiting to see if they kill you! This is wonderful! I like these freaky birds! They are our friends!"

"Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!" chanted the tiny golden Lemur that had served as the Penguins' valet earlier.

"Yes Mort?" asked a smiling Julian.

"I like them! I like them! I like them first!" exclaimed the little hyperactive Lemur as he jumped up and down. "Before I even met them I like them! I like them right away!"

"Yes, yes…" Julian attempted to humor him.

"You _hate_ them compared to how much I like them!" Mort continued. "I like them so much I.."

"Oh shut up, you're so annoying!" Julian spat.

Meanwhile, on a barren and desolate planet, four animals dressed as Starfleet officers trudged towards a distant prefabricated outpost.

"Don't worry," Gloria told the others. "I'm sure that the _Madagascar_ is sending a rescue party down for us right now."

"_We_ were supposed to rescue Phil and Mason," Alex grumbled. "The captain left me in charge and I sure have made a mess of it."

"Cheer up, Alex," Marty suggested. "Just think how happy those Chimps will be when we show up to rescue them! I'm sure they'll tell headquarters good things about us!"

"Yeah," Melman added. "When they tell headquarters that we risked our lives to save them, Starfleet will probably give us a medal!"

In the skies above the planet, a small spacecraft made its way to the _Madagascar_. Two Chimpanzees in Starfleet uniforms were at the controls.

"It's a good thing we were able to get this warpshuttle working Phil," Mason remarked conversationally as they left the atmosphere. "I'd hate to spend another moment in that deathtrap where they left us."

Rather than speaking, Phil made gestures, using American Sign Language to communicate back.

"Yes," Mason chuckled softly. "You're right, Phil. It doesn't matter if Alex _does_ outrank us. After what he put us through we _will_ fling poo at him!"

_Next: The Penguin One_


	7. The Penguin One

**Star Trek: Madagascar**

by Galaxy1001D

_The Penguins of Madagascar_ television series and the movies _Madagascar_ and _Madagascar_ _2: Escape to Africa_ are the properties of Nickelodeon and Dreamworks Animation, Viacom, CBS and a bunch of other guys. Additional material owned by 20th Century Fox. _Star Trek_ is owned by Paramount, who is also owned by CBS. _Alien_ and _Aliens_ are owned by 20th Century Fox. This story has been written for the purpose of entertainment only. No attempt has been made to use this document for profit.

_Chapter Seven: The Penguin One_

"Here it is, gentlemen," Skipper said as he and the other Penguins gazed up at shabby, vaguely cylinder-shaped spacecraft they had spent the last two days rebuilding. "The _Penguin One._"

"Is it… safe?" the private asked nervously.

"Kowalski?" Skipper turned to the taller, slimmer Penguin on his right.

A hatch fell off the ramshackle spacecraft and hit the ground less than a meter away. Kowalski looked at it and then turned back to Skipper. "Technically: maybe," was his reply. Rico put on a pair of wielding goggles as the private picked up the hatch to hold it in place.

"Hey! Guys!" Marlene emerged from the jungle to march over in protest to the four marines. "What do you think you are doing restarting their warp program? You aren't authorized to share our technology with them!"

"Oh we aren't sharing this technology, Marlene," Skipper looked away from the hasty repair job to assure her with a laugh. "We're taking it away."

"Huh?" Marlene stopped in her tracks.

"We are commandeering this spacecraft for our own use," Kowalski clarified. "We still have our suicide mission on LV-426 to accomplish."

"But this is the spacecraft the Lemurs used to get to warp speed," Marlene protested. "This is the ship responsible for first contact with the United Federation of Planets. It belongs to the Lemurs."

"But it wasn't built by the Lemurs," Skipper pointed out. "It crashed here years ago and the Lemurs simply got it working again. According to the reports, two of their scientists accidentally launched themselves into space and were rescued by Starfleet. This technology doesn't belong to the Lemurs and will only contaminate their culture."

"And when a culture has been contaminated it is every serviceman's duty to restore it," Kowalski chimed in. "Even if it means sacrificing their lives. Isn't that what the Prime Directive is all about?"

"Hey, now wait a minute!" Marlene frowned. "The point is that you are stealing a major piece of historical interest from the Lemurs. This is the ship that made history. If it wasn't for this lump of metal none of us would even be here and the Lemurs would still think that they are alone in the universe."

"Oh I see," Skipper teased. "It's okay to make exceptions to the Prime Directive when it benefits _us_, is that it?"

"No that is not it!" Marlene growled. "Don't you see that you are endangering the relations we have with the Lemurs? They're going to think we're all a bunch of crooks if you steal this out from under them."

"Oh, we're not stealing," Skipper assured her. "The king gave us permission. Now double time men! We've got to get this thing ready for take off before he changes his mind!"

"Hello neighbors!" King Julian waved as he and a group of Lemurs emerged from the jungle. "How does the work go on the _Julian Aye-aye_?" He turned to address the Koala shaped Maurice following him. "That is the cool way to say the number 'two'."

"The _Penguin One_… I mean the _Julian II_ is nearly ready for launch," Skipper informed him. "All we got to do is run some preflight checks and we'll be taking off."

"Did you hear that, Maurice?" Julian smiled. "Soon we will being taking off!"

"That's right," Skipper nodded, then he did a double-take. "Wait a minute? We? You're going too?"

"But of course silly Penguin," King Julian smirked arrogantly. "Why else did I order you to rebuild this strange contraption? I want to see this outer space universe that you keep talking about for myself!"

"But… now wait a minute!" Skipper protested. "This spaceship isn't safe! We don't even know if it will make it to our destination!"

"Even if we do get to our destination, we're heading to an outpost that has been completely wiped out," the private added. "It's a suicide mission. It's possible that none of us are going to survive."

"Yeah," Rico nodded.

"There's no way we can endanger the sovereign of an entire planet," Skipper announce imperiously. "Particularly not after we've successfully opened relations with that planet. That would send relations between Lemuria and the Federation back twenty years!"

"Fine," Julian shrugged. "If you will not take me with you I'll just be taking my spacey ship back. We can take it apart and use the metal for bathtubs until your scientists arrive and tell us what to do with the dangerous bits…"

"Now wait a minute!" Skipper repeated. "You agreed to let us use this spacecraft to get to our outpost and perform a rescue…!"

"No, I ordered you to get this futuristic hunk of junk working so I could go out and show the universe how exiting and brave I am!" Julian struck a heroic pose. "I am ready to be going out and going where no Lemur has ever been going before!"

"Hm?" Marlene crossed her arms and raised a skeptical eyebrow that said, "I told you so."

Julian turned and faced his subjects. "Until I return with the spoils of the strange new worlds," he announced to his people, "Stevie will be in charge!" He held up a small unintelligent gecko by the tail.

The normally loud and boisterous Lemurs fell silent.

"I don't think they like that idea so much, Julian," Maurice laughed in embarrassment.

But the king of Lemuria wasn't listening. He was holding up the gecko to his ear and letting the little lizard lick him. "What was that you are saying Stevie?" Julian laughed in disbelief. "Oh come on! How is that even possible? You are such the card you naughty little thing!"

"Oh King Julian, wait for me!" a childlike golden mouse Lemur squeaked as it emerged from the crowd dragging a suitcase behind it. "I got all packed and I have an itinerary and everything…"

"Oh no, Mort!" Julian gasped as his face fell. "Don't let him on! He's so annoying!" He dropped the gecko and started pointing at Mort with both hands. "Grab him everyone, he's carrying scissors and hand cream!"

Mort was still going on about the fun things they would do as the other Lemurs dogpiled on him.

Julian turned and pushed Marlene, Maurice and the Penguins into the open hatch of the spacecraft. "Everybody get in quickly!" he ordered. "Get in! Get in! Get in quick!"

"Struts!" snapped Skipper as ebony black flippers flicked switches on the control panels.

"Check!" Kowalski acknowledged as hydraulics hissed and belched steam.

"Flaps!" Skipper barked as the needles on gages twitched and moved.

"Check!" Kowalski answered as screens came to life.

"Engines!" Skipper said as stubby onyx flippers turned knobs and pushed buttons.

"Check!" Kowalski replied as lights activated illuminating the interior.

"Coffee maker!" Skipper snapped as a black flipper flicked a switch and glowed orange.

"Check!" Kowalski confirmed as a fresh coffee filter was placed inside the device.

As the a group of Lemurs made punching motions at the center of the dogpile, Mort squirmed out from under them while laughing like a maniac. He ran over to the entry hatch and slammed face first against the hatch's window when Julian and Maurice closed it just in the nick of time.

"Prepare for take off!" Skipper instructed.

Skipper pulled down a primitive microphone from the roof and turned to address the passengers. Using the speaker system was almost unnecessary, since the passenger seats were right behind the open cockpit door. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for flying Air Penguin…"

Marlene and the Lemurs strapped themselves in as the Private instructed them in spacecraft safety. "In the event of an emergency, the emergency life support bubble will give you approximately five minutes to kiss your bum goodbye," the young private informed the passengers. Rico snored loudly from the seat behind them.

"We'd like you to sit back and relax, and pray to your personal god this hunk-of-junk flies," Skipper's confident voice continued over the intercom.

"Wait a minute… 'personal god' 'hunk-of-what'?" Marlene muttered. "That doesn't sound right…"

Back in the cockpit, Kowalski pulled a big lever. "We are 'go' sir," Kowalski informed Skipper.

"Open the door, I'm outside!" Mort shouted as he clung onto the exterior of the craft. He lost his hold and screamed as he was sucked into an intake port at the base of one of the ungainly ship's wings.

Meanwhile the private stood before the passengers and demonstrated the emergency life support equipment. "Should there be a loss in cabin pressure, place the space helmet over your head and put the visor down to hide the terrified expression on your face from the other passengers."

"Hey wait a minute!" Maurice protested. "If anything goes wrong, what are the chances of any of us getting through this?"

"Two to the power of seven hundred and eighty-four thousand, two hundred and nineteen to one," the private answered. "About the same chances of an alien civilization finding one of our space probes and making it so powerful that it in effect becomes God."

"Kowalski, light this candle!" Skipper ordered from the cockpit.

"T minus five, four, three, two, one!" Kowalski counted down as his flippers raced across the controls. "Lift off!"

The ungainly craft soared into the sky, knocking a letter off the giant sign made of flowers that said 'THANK YOU FREAKS' and disappearing into the stratosphere. Now free from the dense jungle canopy, the _Penguin One _could be seen as a roughly grain silo shaped spaceship with two wings that ended in oversized nacelles. One of the warp nacelles was emitting a trail of smoke as it left the planet's atmosphere.

"Now that artificial gravity is online, you are now free to move across the cabin," Skippers voice boomed over the intercom.

"Phew! Thank goodiness for that!" Julian gasped as he unfastened his seat's restraints. "I've got to go visit the little king's room! Back in a jiffy!" He said as he dashed to the back of the spaceship.

The private took his helmet off and addressed Maurice as the Aye-aye Lemur and Marlene unbuckled themselves. "Now that we've got a moment to ourselves there's something that's been bothering me. Why do you and Julian have different accents?"

"What are you talkin' about?" Maurice's deep voice boomed. "You've got an accent yourself! You talk different than the rest of the Penguins!"

"No I don't," the private shook his head. "I don't have an accent. I talk just like everybody else does."

"Oh yes you do," Maurice crossed his arms while his tail twitched. "Okay, if you don't have an accent, repeat after me: color."

"Colour," the private repeated.

"Labor," the portly Lemur challenged.

"Labour," the Penguin retorted.

"Tires," Maurice put his hands on his hips.

"Tyres," the private said nervously.

"Gasoline," the Aye-aye dared as he gave the private a hard one.

"Petrol," the private said guilessly.

"Uh-huh," Maurice nodded in grim satisfaction. "Truck."

"Lorry," said the innocent private.

"Elevator," Maurice snapped as he tried to keep the incredulity off his face.

"Lift," smiled the private as he totally misread Maurice's expression and began to gain confidence.

"Crosswalk!" Maurice cried, unable to keep his disbelief off his face.

"Zebra crossing," the young Penguin said in triumph.

Maurice crossed his arms again and raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"What?" the private put his flippers out in a placating gesture. "I said it the same way you did."

Maurice just sighed and shook his head as he walked to the back of the spacecraft.

"What? What…?" the private protested. "I don't talk different than anybody else does!" He turned to the Otter. "Marlene, you don't think I have an accent do you?"

"Er uh, heh-heh," the Otter laughed nervously. "No of course not."

* * *

Meanwhile, lightyears away on another planet, Alex, Marty, Gloria and Melman finally made it to the abandoned outpost.

"Well it took us a few days but we finally made it," Gloria sighed. "Man, am I hungry. I hope there's some food and water in there.

"Hey guys, take a look at the sign on the gate," Marty pointed it out to the others. "What does it say?"

Melman used his long neck to place his face level with the sign. "It says 'Hadley's Hope Pop 158'."

"Hadley's Hope?" Marty repeated. "Guys, do you know where we are?"

"No Marty, the rest of us don't spend all of our time watching movies on the big screen TV on the bridge," Alex snarled testily.

"This the planet from the first two _Alien_ movies!" Marty shouted. "Don't you get it? The monsters from _Aliens_ killed everybody else here! This place is a deathtrap!"

"Oh my gosh, I think I remember that movie!" Alex gasped. "Sigourney Weaver. James Cameron directed! They were in the future on a distant planet, and there were these guys in black alligator suits that had acid for blood and they kidnapped the people and laid their eggs in them."

"And when the eggs hatched the people died!" Marty finished.

"Wait a minute, James Cameron _Alien_ aliens don't exist in the _Star Trek_ universe do they?" Melman asked.

"Neither do talking giraffes!" Marty snapped. "We've got to get out of here or we're done for!"

_Next: Crashdown_


End file.
